


The Game

by Slytherin_Princess_Nysa



Series: Gendrya Appreciation Week 2020 [2]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV), Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins
Genre: Alternate Universe - Hunger Games Setting, Angst, AryaxGendry Week, Blood and Violence, Dehydration, District 1 (Hunger Games), District 12 (Hunger Games), Enemies to Friends to Lovers, F/M, Falling In Love, Feels, Gendrya - Freeform, Hunger Games, Hunger Games-Typical Death/Violence, Hurt/Comfort, Injury, POV Arya Stark, POV Gendry Waters, Partnership, Protective Arya Stark, Protective Gendry Waters, Rescue Missions, Romance, Slow Burn, Star-crossed, Starvation, The Capitol (Hunger Games), Tributes, Trust
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-19
Updated: 2020-07-19
Packaged: 2021-03-04 18:53:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,089
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25371187
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Slytherin_Princess_Nysa/pseuds/Slytherin_Princess_Nysa
Summary: Arya grew up in District 1. She was privileged and trained for the day her name was drawn for the Hunger Games. Other kids in her district are excited for the Games, they get a chance to prove themselves and move to Victor's Village if they return. But Arya knows the price of being in the Games, and worse, of winning the games. But when her name is drawn, the district cheering for her, all Arya feels is fear.Gendry scraped by and put his name into the lottery more times than anyone sane would, all to take care of his younger siblings. But even when they were barely surviving and huddled together for warmth, he believed in a day when they would all be fed and happy. The day his name is drawn to fight for district 12 is the first day he's ever truly lost hope.
Relationships: Arya Stark & Gendry Waters, Arya Stark & Robb Stark, Arya Stark/Gendry Waters, Robb Stark/Daenerys Targaryen
Series: Gendrya Appreciation Week 2020 [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1686238
Comments: 18
Kudos: 43





	The Game

**Author's Note:**

> Day 2 of Gendrya Appreciation Week  
> Prompt : AU

**~Arya Stark~**

District 1 was the pride and joy of the Capitol.

Every year the Academy’s best would volunteer as tributes to fight in the Hunger Games. If they were skilled and strong enough, they would win and bring honour to the district. But every year Arya would watch twenty-three children starve and fight and die for the entertainment of the Capital, selfishly hoping that one of her friends from the Academy would come home.

Three years ago, her older brother, Robb, had gone to the games. He had volunteered like he was supposed to - taking the place of a scrawny fourteen year old - and he had stood on the podium grinning as the district cheered for him, just like they had for their uncle Brandon, but Robb had come home a victor unlike uncle Brandon. Arya had spent a month watching her big brother on the television screen with the rest of her family. Her parents and her younger brothers all huddled around, just watching it all unfold.

In the chariot he had looked like a god, standing tall and ignoring the crowd as they gawked at the jewels and silk he wore. They had styled him in a fine gold suit when he went on Daario Naharis’ talk show and Robb had charmed his way through the interview. Leaving the people of Westeros rooting for him and a line of eager sponsors around the Capitol waiting impatiently for the games. Then the games had begun.

Arya remembered feeling so proud when Robb had volunteered and before the games had started, when he was in the Capital. But watching her brother starve, betray his alliance before they could betray him, watching him _ kill _ , it washed away the mentality the Academy had taught her. The games weren’t a gift to any of them, Robb hadn’t come home proud of what he had done to win- no, not win, survive.

He was her brother and she loves him but something in him broke the day the horn sounded and twenty-four children raced to the cornucopia. He barely ate and she caught him sitting on the porch of their new house in Victor's Village every night, staring off into the distance almost like he was waiting for the faces of the dead to light up the night sky. She would sit with him sometimes, hold his shaking hands in hers and listen to his breathing even out when no cannons fired. They never talked, in part because Robb never talked about the games and in part because the Capitol listened to everything they said.

Arya wondered if she was chosen for the games and managed to return, would she know what else Robb thought about on the porch?

Her mother had dressed her up in her best dress, a pretty lilac colour that apparently complimented her complexion. Or so her mother said, Arya wasn’t as interested in clothes and make up like her mother and the other girls in her year. Sometimes she felt sorry for her mother, having only one daughter out of five and it wasn’t like her brothers were easy to manage.

She studied her reflection, trying to picture herself in the chariot or sitting in the plush chair in Naharis’ interview room. For a flash she even tried to see herself covered in mud, hollow cheeks from hunger and the blood of other children soaking into the pretty fabric of her dress. Arya shut her eyes and shook away the image. When she opened them again, it was just her standing in her bedroom, tugging on the hem of her dress.

A knock came at her door and Arya turned away from the mirror, opening the door to find her older brother leaning against the frame. She stepped to the side, letting him come inside. They had to leave for the reaping soon and she tried to even out her breathing.

Robb was smiling widely, but his eyes stayed numb as he pulled her into a bone crushing hug. Arya wrapped her arms around his neck, letting his comforting scent wash over her. She squeezed her eyes shut as she tried to take it in and carry the warmth and safety her brother brought her. She knew the anxiety she felt growing in her stomach would only get worse when she was waiting in the town square with the other children, waiting for a slip of paper to be drawn and decide her fate for this year and every year to come.

Robb turned his head, his mouth at the shell of her ear, his voice barely reaching a whisper. “Whatever you do, don’t volunteer today.”

His voice shook and his fingers dug into her sides.

When he let her go, he was back to the blank smile he always wore, not a trace of the fear his voice had held a minute ago. Arya nodded at him with a passable smile of her own. Together they walked out of her room and down the stairs. Their mother was fixing Bran and Rickon’s dress shirts, making sure they looked presentable for the cameras. They wouldn’t be going of course, but appearances were important.

Catelyn turned at the sound of their footsteps, clapping her hands. “Oh wonderful, you’re both ready. Jon is already at the square and the rest of us need to leave too or we’ll be late.” she turned towards the door, ushering the boys ahead of her.

Arya was the last one out the door, pausing with her hand on the golden knob. This had been her home since Robb came back, it didn’t hold the memories of her childhood home but it was still the place where her family lived and that was all that mattered.

She took it all in.

The stairs her brothers raced down, the armchair their father drank his coffee, the little office Robb only used for his calls to the Capital. Even the hall closet she always forgot to close that drove their mother crazy. Or the muddy boots leaning against the door, the ones Jon used to track grassy prints all over the hall.

She shut the door quickly, wondering if this would be the last time she would step foot in this house, in this district.

The streets were filled with excited people, parents pushing their older children ahead of them with pride and beaming at anyone they passed as if to say ‘this could be our champion, just you wait!’. Vendors lined the main street and handed passing children little lemon cakes for good luck in the reaping. Rickon greedily grabbed two and Arya waved away the tray when they passed it towards her. Her stomach was churning violently and she was afraid that if she had a single crumb of the sweetened lemon cake, she would throw it all up on the pavement, right in front of the camera’s broadcasting to all of Westeros.

That certainly wouldn’t get her any sponsors in the games. Nobody wanted to root for the wrong tribute and end up embarrassed.

She shook herself.

No, she didn’t need sponsors because she wouldn’t be volunteering. Not this year and not any year. Robb had nailed that point well into her head since he came home. Arya wondered how many of her classmates wanted to be chosen today and how many of them planned to volunteer if the tribute chosen wasn’t acceptable.

And when they were shipped off to the Capitol with the other  _ lucky _ twenty-two tributes, Arya would sit at home with her family and watch the slaughter, pretending to be disappointed that she wasn’t there. She would hold Robb’s hand and try to keep the disgust off her face while children bled out in the Capitol’s arenas.

They reached the lines for the signup and Arya took a calming breath. Catelyn and Ned stayed behind with Jon, the three of them too old to be eligible for the draw. At sixteen, Arya had three draws left, counting today. She just needed to be lucky three more times and she would be safe from the Games forever. Bran and Rickon had more than their fair share of years left but neither of them were in the academy so if they were chosen, someone else would volunteer.

Robb moved ahead on his own in a daze, towards the stage, his posture straight and a radiant smile in place for the cameras. With not a shred of genuine emotion on his face. The cameras followed after him like he was a war hero. Arya waved at her younger brothers as they split off into seperate lines away from her.

They both looked so small next to the other boys their ages. Not unlike Arya’s small stature next to the other girls. Looking over at the boys, Arya knew most of them had the advantage against her. They towered over her and could probably pick her up and throw her across the town square without breaking a sweat if they wanted.

She shook herself, advantage wouldn’t matter because she wouldn’t be chosen.

It all passed in a blur from there. Waiting in line, slowly moving up until the clinical woman at the table could prick her finger and check her name off the list. She stood between two blonde girls from her class. Neither of them were particularly talented in hand-to-hand, weaponry or basic survival skills but they were pretty and could pull in a sponsor or two if they fluttered their eyelashes and played the interview right.

“Welcome!” a voice called out from the stage and Arya’s eyes snapped up to watch him shout into the microphone. “It’s my honour to welcome you all to the 74th annual Hunger Games reaping! Today we choose our two champions who will represent us and fight for the glory and honour of our beloved district 1! But before we draw their names, we have a message from the Capitol and our president!”

Arya tried not to roll her eyes at his dramatics.

The anthem blared loudly through the speakers surrounding the square and Arya’s eyes unfocused as President Aerys came on screen. They played the same message every year and Arya could remember every line. It was the history of the failed rebellion, how the Capitol created the Games to punish the districts by taking their children away but they spun it into a gift for the districts instead. Like they should be thankful.

Arya’s tongue was heavy and her mouth was dry, her fingers curled into the fabric of her dress anxiously as the message drowned on. The hammering of her beating heart rang in her ears and Arya tried to breathe through her nose and out through her mouth.

“And now,” Loras Tyrell gestured to the large bowls of paper. “It’s time for the drawing and, as usual, the ladies go first!” He walked quickly to the bowl on his right, reaching inside, swirling his hand before pulling out a single folded sheet of paper.

“Good luck,” one of the girls whispered to her with a grin and Arya tried to smile back but her lips refused to move from their straight line.

Arya sent one final prayer up to whoever would listen.  _ Please _ , she asked,  _ please don’t send me or my brothers to the Games to die _ .

“The female tribute for District 1 is…” he paused, eyes looking up from the slip of paper and looked over the crowd. “Arya Stark!”

She blinked. That couldn’t be right, could it?

“Let’s give her a round of applause!” Arya found her feet moving towards the stage in slow motion, her face frozen in the same blank expression Robb wore when people congratulated him on his victory. “There she is, ladies and gentleman!”

Loras held out his hand to her as she reached the bottom of the staircase and pulled her onto the stage. Robb was standing with the other victors and Arya tried not to look at him. She knew that if she did, something would snap in her head. The thin wall she had built between her panic and her face would crack and she would be signing her own death sentence.

She stood quietly, staring off into the endless sea of faces as the boy’s name was drawn and announced to the crowd. A scrawny boy of twelve had barely made his way through the crowd and onto the path before a hand was shooting up to volunteer for him.

Arya knew she recognized him from the academy, but her mind was only white noise. Vaguely she heard Loras call out their names, saw her hand stick out to shake her fellow tributes before they were led into the building, followed by thundering applause from the crowd.

One of her guards led Arya down a long hall, walking a respectful distance behind her as he directed her. He moved around her, opening the door to one of the rooms and stepping aside to let her pass, closing it behind her.

It was a nice room. A warm fire was lit in the hearth, sending flashes of red and orange to dance across the polished floor and a vase full of pretty wildflowers sat on the mahogany table. Arya sat in one of the chairs closest to the fire, holding out her hands gingerly for the flame to warm her suddenly freezing fingers.

It all felt so disconnected from her. The entire morning was like a strange nightmare that she was having, a part of her still expected someone to tell her this was all some sort of misunderstanding and that someone else had been drawn for the female tribute of District 1. That it wasn’t her because it couldn’t be her.

But it was.

She didn’t know how long she sat in the chair waiting for her family, picking at the buttons on her sleeve or simply watching the fire flicker and listen to the popping of the logs. It seemed like only a few minutes ago she had been sitting in her room, braiding her hair with steady fingers and brushing wrinkles out of her dress.

Had it all happened that quickly?

“Arya?” she jumped out of the chair and hurried to Robb’s side. He wrapped his arms around her tightly, crushing her into his chest but Arya didn’t complain, just pulled him closer. As if she could attach herself to him and be away from the rest of the world.

“Where’s everyone else?” she muttered into his shirt, sniffling as the familiar scent of their laundry soap washed over her.

“Do you remember coming to visit me before I left?” he asked into the top of her head and Arya shook her head. “That’s because you didn’t come to visit me. Nobody but dad did. Do you know why that was?”

She knew why he would be the one to come and see her. He had gone through this before, he could at least try to help her with what she would go through since he wouldn’t be allowed to mentor her. But Arya still wanted to see everyone else too. Just to see their faces, for all she knew it was the last time she could.

She looked up at him, suddenly feeling as if she was a small child again. “But why? I want to see them, just in case… in case-” she swallowed thickly. “I want to see everyone before I go. To say goodbye and-” she cut off with a shaky breath.

“Arya, as soon as you leave this room you get on the train for the Capitol, your face will be on every screen in Westeros.” Robb bent slightly at the waist, bringing his face level with hers and gripping her shoulders tightly. “If you go out there with puffy eyes and a red face, they will see you as weak and you  _ cannot _ be weak, little sister. Being thought of as easy pickings will get you killed. You won’t get sponsors and you won’t have allies and you will die in the games, do you understand me?”

“I-”

Robb shook her, his face set in worry. “Do you understand?”

She straightened her shoulders and looked him in the eyes. Their mother’s eyes, their brothers eyes. Arya clenched her teeth tight and blinked away the moisture building in her eyes, steeling herself against the rest of the world. “I understand.”

Robb tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, his hand warm on her face as he looked at her. “You’re small and fast. Try to stick with the other Careers for at least the first few days, they’ll stay loyal out of need and reputation.” Arya nodded hastily. “Don’t make friends with anyone, they’ll be dead by the end of the game and you’ll carry the guilt of their deaths with you for the rest of your life.”

Arya wonders which of his allies he thought about when he sat on the porch late at night. “Anything else?”

“For god's sake, Arya,” Robb presses a kiss on her temple right as the doors open. “You do whatever it takes to win and come home to us.”

She hears it in his voice, the crack in his own wall. She squeezes his hand as she turns away from him and walks to the door. She refuses to turn back. Robb wouldn’t want her to break down and die because of him.

“Tell them,” she paused at the door. “Tell them I love them.”

Arya isn’t stupid, she knows the other tributes will have size and brute strength over her. But Robb is right, she’s fast and has a killer throwing hand. She could make it pretty far, maybe even win the games if the Game Maker decided to give them a good terrain this year. Something with trees to climb and food to scavenge.

The sun burned her eyes and Arya flinched back from the almost violent cheering around her as they were paraded to the train. She was exposed to them, every move she made would be analyzed and studied by every Capitol resident to see if she was good enough for their money. Like a fine necklace at an auction house.

She climbed the stairs carefully, watching her feet to avoid embarrassment. Remembering the persona Robb had taken on when he had played, Arya paused at the door, plastering on a smile and waving to the people.

_ Who can afford to buy my soul? _

**Author's Note:**

> I was forced to post this against my will
> 
> Send SWAT to save me from my friends basement


End file.
